Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Sound of These Whales is Mighty Sweet

Nic Sebastian's Whale Sound arose from an "... idea record and post readings of a range of contemporary poems, selected through a mixture of solicitations and submissions (self- and third-party).

The recordings are posted, archived and indexed on her blog, and Whale Sound is also available as a free downloadable iTunes podcast. Links to poem texts available elsewhere online are posted, but no text is posted on the blog itself.

Whale Sound also accepts third-party submissions made on behalf of other web-active poets."

She says " a recent blog post on the project, I find that reading other people’s work aloud is the most tender and respectful, and also the most careful, way to engage with it. I hope you will join me in this continuing celebration. "

All this blogger can say is check it out. Her vocal renderings of other poets' work are amazing.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Poet Searching for Online Poetry Workshop

Yeah, that's right. Once again I'm looking for a place to hang my on-line poetic hat. Most of the places I used to frequent have gone "The Way of all Flesh". Anybody have any suggestions? I'm all ears....really. Oh... and I promise to be more active than this guy!

Saturday, November 06, 2010

Taking out the Shears & Doing Some Pruning.

I've changed the blog's template and have pruned away links that no longer functioned. If there's something I've missed drop me a line.

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

On Responding to the Question: "Why Have You Abandoned Poetry?"

I have received in the course of the last several months open e-mails inquiring why I had stopped posting on this blog and more importantly why I had stopped writing and being an active member of the on-line poetry scene. The truth is that I had not abandoned poetry. Rather, poetry had until very recently abandoned me. No longer did the music of poetry spill into my everyday life. I had become oblivious to its calling. Whereas, before, the urgency of ars poetica would boil and bubble into my very essence, it had now become a footnote to my existence. This did not seem or feel right. Then there was the need to mourn my recent losses. Perhaps the time has come for renewal.

The Something
Charles Simic

Here come my night thoughts
On crutches,
Returning from studying the heavens.
What they thought about
Stayed the same,
Stayed immense and incomprehensible.

My mother and father smile at each other
Knowingly above the mantel.
The cat sleeps on, the dog
Growls in his sleep.
The stove is cold and so is the bed.

Now there are only these crutches
To contend with.
Go ahead and laugh, while I raise one
With difficulty,
Swaying on the front porch,
While pointing at something
In the gray distance.

You see nothing, eh?
Neither do I, Mr. Milkman.
I better hit you once or twice over the head
With this fine old prop,
So you don't go off muttering

I saw something!